Evil's Christmas Eve
by RavenWolf3
Summary: Spike, Angel, and a scraggly little Christmas tree. SpikeAngel.


Title: Evil's Christmas Eve

Author: RavenWolf

Pairing: Spike/Angel

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Can I have them both for X-mas? Please?

Summary: Spike, Angel, and a scraggly Christmas tree.

A/N: Merry Christmas, Kelsey!! This is by turns somber and sarcastic. We'll just have to call it a bipolar fic, 'kay?

Angel gently kissed the blond head of his bed mate. Spike slept soundly, so he didn't have to worry much about reproach. 

Spike had always been an artful lover, but even so, it had been quite a challenge to have sex with a semi-corporeal person. Somehow they managed it, to the enjoyment of all.

Angel looked out the window. The stars twinkled brightly in the cold, crisp night. He looked down at Spike. He looked so peaceful and quiet sleeping, one would never know that he was a little piece of hell on wheels when conscious. Angel had always loved that about Spike. He was always so full of boundless energy. And he never got tired of the hunt and the kill, even in their simplest forms. Part of his love for Spike, then, stemmed from Angelus, but then again, so did all of him.

Angel's eyes shifted to the small, scraggly Christmas tree in the corner of the room. Spike had wanted to set fire to it when he first laid eyes on it. Said he wanted to put the poor thing out of its misery. Angel refused. Spike had called him a nonce and then walked through the wall into the office, where Angel assumed that he was pouting. Or breaking something.

But the Christmas tree remained, despite the large, extravagant one in the lobby below. Two hundred years, and yet Angel still clung to human traditions.

There were a few gifts beneath it. All but one were addressed to Spike. The single present with 'Angel' scribbled messily on it looked rather raggedy. It also stood out by way of black wrapping paper. That was Spike, though, and Angel didn't expect anything less of him. 

He began to stroke Spike's pale, hard chest. It was an interesting sensation. While sleeping, Spike didn't seem to be able to focus fully on holding his solidity. The result was a rather thin feeling to his skin, as if by pressing very hard, Angel could put his hand right through Spike's chest.

He smiled fondly as he remembered many other fond nights like this. He remembered the first time Spike had referred to him as his secondary Princess. Angelus had given him the beating of his life for that, but it had been worth every moment, for both of them, he thought.

There were a lot of things that he regretted, but he especially hated the way he'd thrown all of Spike's tenderness and goodness back in his face. William had always been so tender and romantic. Angelus had taken great pride in ripping that to shreds. But still, William remained unlike all of his other childer. Intelligent and witty, independent and beautiful, but mostly, soft inside.

"Quit brooding, you bloody poofter. You're ruining the afterglow." Angel looked down to see sharp bright eyes staring at him disgustedly. A look that he was very much used to, and had come to equate with Spike's version of affection.

As close as he was going to get, anyway.

"Well, aren't you just a ray of sunshine." Angel knew the remark wasn't as cutting as it should have been, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything harsher, not with the way he was feeling.

Spike recognized the sappy look on Angel's face, and felt his own shift into an expression of dread. "Oh no. Don't go getting all Christmas-spirity on me. We've already gone over this. You are not now, and have never been, the ghost of Christmas past, present, or future. If anything, you're the ghost of Christmas-fun. Bloody cheap, is what you are."

Angel merely smiled beatifically. "We'll see about that tomorrow morning, now, won't we."

"Whatever. If you're trying to get me all excited about some stupid brightly wrapped boxes, you've got another thing coming." With that, Spike turned over so that his back faced Angel.

A secret smile graced Angel's features. Spike probably wouldn't be able to sleep for at least the next forty-five minutes, wondering what was in those 'stupid, brightly wrapped boxes'. But that was Will. Always so excited about life, even though he was living it on the other side.

"Goodnight, Spike."

"Shut up, grandpa."


End file.
